


Me Thinks This Heart

by WriterWithNoName1



Series: A Poetic Life Verse [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: AU, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Aryan Brotherhood, I may or may not be exaggerating how much power Tully has, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Juice with ADHD, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Canon, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWithNoName1/pseuds/WriterWithNoName1
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day in Stockton. Tully, as it turns out, is a romantic, and he’s got plans for the future.(Edited version)





	Me Thinks This Heart

“If music be the food of love, play on.”

Juice frowns, that’s not Bronte, and he says so. He’s developed an ear for the rhythms and the patterns of the poems, he knows the quote doesn’t fit.

“Nah it ain’t, baby, its Shakespeare.” Tully says, superior in his intellect. “Twelfth Night.”

Juice tries to kick start his brain data base into action, searching for something, anything about Shakespeare; he’s aware he’s becoming anxious to not appear stupid in front of Tully.

Does it worry him?

Maybe.

But Juice has always hated feeling stupid.

\----

_Tig looks both lived and in pain. “You fed crystal to a killer Doberman? …Are you retarded?”_

_\----_

Perhaps if he weren’t so stupid he wouldn’t be here right now.

“Um… like… Romeo and Juliet?” He throws out an unsure stone.

That’s all he knows, and he hasn’t even read the damn play; but he has seen the movie.

“That’s right, Sweetheart.” When Tully smirks, Juice is put in mind of retiles and other cold blooded animals.

Tully _is_ an animal.

“Funny you should say that, considering the time of year and all.”

Juice hasn’t got a clue what Tully is getting at, every day is the same in here, wake up, eat, exercise, eat again, piss, shit, sleep.

Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

Leave your mind at home.

Even his rapist’s nightly visits have become so routine that Juice doesn’t flinch away. If anything, he gets concerned if Tully _doesn’t_ show his face.

They don’t always get straight down to the fucking, Tully likes to touch first.

Gently caressing Juice’s skin, the object of what seems to be a mixture of fascination and hatred.

\---

_“If you were white, sweetheart, I’d take you to meet my mother.”_

_\---_

Thinking about Tully having an actual mother is downright disturbing. Clay used to make jokes about what must have happened in Tig’s childhood to make such a twisted little individual.

He tells Tully about Tig. There’s a lot of empty air and thoughts to banish so Juice ends up talking more than he should.

When he mentions Tig’s attraction to stiffs, the Neo-Nazi made what could only be described as a slightly disgusted expression. _“You rode with a distasteful crowd, baby.”_

Doesn’t Juice know it. They were fucking nuts, and a bunch of bastards.

But they were his, and he was there’s.

Now, he’s Tully’s.

\---

_“You’re too nice a boy to be with scum like that.”_

_“…so what, I’ve upgraded with you?”_

_“No, I’m the one that’s upgraded, sweetheart.”_

_\---_

He’s full of compliments lately and its worrying, not to mention sickening to the stomach.

Back to the present, he expects Tully to explain but as usual the fucker decides to be all vague and cryptic. “Real special day coming up soon. I got you something.”

Juice snorts. “Well aren’t I just a lucky little butthole.”

Yes, he’s being stupid again, but he doesn’t give a damn for Tully’s gifts. The only thing he’ll take is the lube; for practical reasons.

“Mouthy today, hm?” Tully is unfazed by Juice’s behaviour, as if he’s a tired teacher dealing with the usual antics of a disobedient student. He has a patience that could outlast god.

“How about I put that to good use?”

Tully is a literal guy, when he wants you to eat your words, you’re going to do it.

\------

Juice lines up to get his slop but he finds himself summoned by one of the shit-heads in uniform. He doesn’t fear them, why should he? He can’t fear anyone more than Tully.

“Change of plans, Ortiz. Don’t make a scene.”

The bigger, uglier guard grins. “Yeah, Daddy is waiting.”

Juice thinks about ‘making a scene’ just to agitate them, to scream and kick and get these two assholes in the balls just for the pleasure of transferring pain to someone else for a change.

But he doesn’t, he goes, like he’s supposed to.

“Gonna give me a hint, fellas?” He walks between them, eyes forward.

“You’ll see.” And that’s all they will say, no matter how hard Juice tries to wheedle for answers.

Eventually, they come to a room, a private one; more private than a cell.

Juice’s blood chills, he hesitates.

“Go on in. You got forty five minutes.”

All the time in the world.

Juice pushes the door open with his hand, slowly, not breathing at all.

Tully is there, of course, he likes to be the first one in. Waiting, like a spider.

When he sees Juice, he smiles that disconcerting meat hooks smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and gestures for him to approach. He’s sat at a table, which has been laid out with plates, glasses, knives and forks.

There’s a scent in the air, something meaty, and dare Juice say it, appetising.

To say he’s surprised is the understatement of the year. Tully looks pleased with his work.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

Oh.

Everything clicks into place and Juice isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

“Is this a _date?_ ”

“If you say so.”

“Holy shit.”

Tully tuts. “Language, baby. Sit down.”

Juice numbly does as he’s asked, his limbs hanging by their sides, he’s still processing all of this. Who does Tully think he is, the fucking godfather?

There are napkins. Actual napkins.

This must be some sort of surreal, vivid coke fuelled dream because Juice is no way about to have dinner with the shot caller to the Aryan Brotherhood.

But there are tiny imperfections that let him know it’s actually happening. Tully obviously couldn’t get wine glasses, so they’re stuck with cups from the cafeteria. The plates aren’t real bone china either.

Tully is in his prison blues, instead of a tux.

His nails are trimmed and immaculate, how he manages that in this filthy place Juice will never know.

_“Attention to details is everything.”_

Tully reaches forward, if not for the chair, Juice would move back.

He plucks away a cloth which has been draped over a foil tray, inside are two well done steaks, complete with veggies and gravy.

Juice’s mouth drops a little.

“You’ll catch flies, baby.”

His jaw snaps shut.

Tully is a genie; that’s the only way he can do these things. Or he’s sitting on a pile of Nazi gold.

“Go on….eat, you know you want to.”

“How about I shank you with that silver knife?”

Tully shrugs, the threat rolling off him like it’s nothing. “Go ahead.”

He could, he should.

Why _doesn’t_ he?

They’re alone, Juice is quick, and he could do it.

Juice breaths in and out, calming himself.  This is luxury and even though he’s eating from the hand of a man who’s reduced him so much, he’ll still take it.

The steak is a bit chewy, but still so much better than whatever boiled down road kill they serve from the kitchen.

Juice doesn’t talk, he just eats, gorges himself.

Tully takes his time, cutting his meat into little pieces and savouring. He’s got his napkin on his lap.

“Have some vegetables, baby, you need some vitamins.”

Food is a touchy subject for Juice. On the outside he maintained a healthy, balanced diet, only in times of stress did he let it slip and start ordering pizza and burgers for dinner. It was supposed to make him feel good, but it made him feel greasy and sad instead.

All that dough was clogging up his pores.

The vegetables are top notch, perfectly cooked, better than the meat. Juice can’t stop himself, he moans.

Tully looks up.

Juice almost chokes on what’s in his mouth.

“Broccoli gets you going? Huh, I should have been sneaking you greens instead of blow, baby.” There’s that lifeless smile, _again_ , Tully should really stop that.

Juice swallows. “Why don’t you ever call me by my name?” He’s changing the subject desperately, because there are some things he can’t discuss.

The other man sets his fork down. “Because Juice isn’t your given name, and hell I’m saying _Juan Carlos_ this and that.”

Juice wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Too ethnic for you?”

“Doesn’t suit you. Too damn long. Your mama didn’t think she was burdening a little thing like you with a name like that?”

Juice glares, anger bubbling up to his head. “You shut up about my mom.”

“Touchy.” Tully rips apart the streak with his teeth like its butter. “But I guess I got screwed too. No one wants to be called Ronald, either.”

What is this, self-mockery? Surely Tully is too much of an ego maniac for that.

Juice doesn’t engage, he’s pissed off, he just wants to eat his food and go.

Bite, chew, bite chew, don’t look at him, bite, chew.

“Slow down, sweetheart, got dessert to go yet.”

Juice is getting edgy, he can’t sit still for long. He needs to fidget, look at everything, touch things, count, something to make the thoughts go to sleep.

Tully knows this, he’s been so close to Juice for months now he can’t not know.

His plate is only half cleared, Juice wonders if it’s a statement; Juice has practically licked his clean.

He is starving, Tully isn’t.

Tully is in control of himself at all times.

The Neo-Nazi produces a cooler and pulls out two tubs of ice cream, chocolate for Juice, mint choc chip for himself; along with two spoons.

Tully likes ice cream, interesting.

“Chocolate, for the brown guy? Original.”

“You’re more of a light tan. Now eat that before it melts.”

It does start to melt, and Juice feels it dripping off the spoon and down his hand, if he were alone he’d lick it up; but he’s not, and he won’t give Tully any more spank fuel that he already has.

“You’re coming up for parole soon.”

Juice stops, spoon halfway to his mouth.

Tully has ears and eyes all over. Of course he’d know before Juice himself would.

“Got someone on the outside looking out for you, sweetheart?”

There is a long, heavy silence.

“You know I haven’t.” Juice says.

Why? Why is he doing this now?

“That’s a shame, I don’t want to see you thrown to the wolves.”

He’s sitting opposite one.

Tully sits back, thinking, the gears in his hateful mind are turning. “How about I arrange something for you, baby?”

Juice is getting that cold feeling again. “Arrange what?”

“A care package if you will…” He folds his hands in his lap, considering Juice. “Just to help you get back on your feet, you deserve a break, baby, life has been mean to you.”

Tully is delusional.

“What makes you think I want, or need your help?”

All he does is raise an eyebrow, and says it all without even opening his mouth.

Juice shrinks in his chair, which is quite an achievement, he’s pretty darn small these days.

“What can you do, baby? Got any skills? Apart from being pretty?”

“…sure, computers, tech stuff. Motorcycles. I’ve hacked into mainframes, I can plant viruses.”

Tully shakes his head. “I’m an old guy, baby, most I can do is type if I have to and google search. Usually leave the rest of it to someone more able.”

Tully does love to delegate.

“Hm, well, give me a few days, I’ll see what I can make of it.”

He gets up, glides over to Juice. He bends down, kisses down the soft brown neck like there is nothing wrong with it.

Juice tilts his chin up, Tully breaths into his skin.

“I’ll always look after you baby, you know that.”

“I know, Ron.”

Tully purrs, deep and rolling his chest like thunder. His hands drift up Juice’s shirt, they grip at his biceps. “Perfect baby boy… let me take care of you now.”

The dinner sits heavy in Juice’s belly; like concrete.  

**Author's Note:**

> Wow two fics in two days XD don't expect me to keep that up guys. I am planning a LONG fic when Juice gets out of Prison and gets that 'care package' from Tully. Let me know what you think peeps <3


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